A/N: I've been in this mood for a few days now, so I'm finally putting these thoughts into a fic.

WARNING; Author's mind is warped from lack of sleep and stress; content may be considered disturbing.

If You Steal My Sunshine

The Uchiha estate.

From the rumors I heard about it as a child, I doubt anyone comes to this desolate place, where the Uchiha clan once thrived. I can imagine it is treated as a haunted mansion; filled with the lost souls of the slain Uchiha, but I'm not scared at all. No, in fact, I'm excited to be here; excited for what is to come.

You've no idea what a hastle it is to get into contact with Uchiha Sasuke. I hope you don't think it's merely as simple as looking it up in the phone book; no, I spent months tracking down the infamous missing-nin, and single-handedly picked him up. You might be wondering why it wasn't one Uzumaki Naruto who finally captured the nefarious Uchiha, who had become drunk with power, his ego too swelled for him to admit that he now had no purpose in life without pursuing his elder brother. That was simple; Naruto had pushed himself to the point of death.

So when I picked the Uchiha up from his idiot Team Hawk, he never once struggled, never once complained. But the hatred I held for him wouldn't allow me to be easy on him just because he was being cooperative.

I dragged him through the dead of night into the Uchiha estate, his estate; I could immediately see that a horrible deed had once been performed here; a terrible holocaust that had all but erraticated the blood line that was Uchiha. Not once, however, did I feel pity for the bastard.

The apathy in the Uchiha's eyes summoned a great anger inside of me; I wanted nothing more than to see his terror; see his fear.

Out of frustration, out of anger, my hand seemed to move on it's own, taking his throat against my palm and squeezing until my fingers began to ache. No desperation, no fear entered his eyes, though his face was beginning to change; the pale turning rapidly into a deep maroon before his eyes; no fear, only mild surprise.

"You killed him." I couldn't help the words that were croaking out of my strangled throat, nor the tears the cascaded down my face. So many emotions I had been keeping hidden were raw, and the only thing I could do to get rid of the weakness I was feeling was to wrap my hands around the Uchiha's neck and squeeze the life out of him.

Again, surprise entered his eyes, now he was beginning to struggle, unable to breath anymore; his black eyes glared up at me, angry, irritated. He didn't want me to be a threat to him; he only thought of me as an annoyance. Well, I would simply be an annoyance that put him in his coffin.

Without the proper circulation, blood vessels began to pop in his eyes, exploding little stars filling the creamy white of his eyes; tainting them. His mouth opened in a desperate cry, a scream, a holler; something to make me stop, he was kicking and thrashing and punching and reaching for my neck and tugging and squeezing and gasping for air and begging for me to stop and crying and writing beneath me, but I wouldn't stop. The blood rushed to my head, all the adrenhaline, I hadn't felt like this in such a long time, I hadn't killed in such a long time, and his spasming body felt so good beneath mine, because I was getting my revenge. He had killed the boy who had loved him--the boy I had loved; the beautiful blonde who's eyes could melt the coldest hearts, he had killed him.

And all the anger spilled out of me as I suffocated him, but it wasn't enough, it was never enough, I needed more, more to quench the rage that had built inside of me; he deserved more; he deserved to hurt--to suffer.

I released the pressure on his throat, and the Uchiha gasped frantically for breath, his head thrown back to refill the lungs I had deprived of oxygen. Just a little longer and I would've killed him. That would've been too peaceful; I wanted him to suffer, to hurt, to die miserably knowing that he was being given his punishment by the Kazekage of Suna himself.

I climbed off of his gasping body, grabbing him by the roots of his hair and tugged him upward, the Uchiha complied, following my guidance as I took him to the wall. He thought it was over, I could see it in his bruised eyes; he thought I had done my worst, and he was off the hook, he was smiling to himself; I wanted to rip that smile off of his face, and so I would.

"Y'know Gaara," He murmured as I dragged him, only feuling my anger more to hear his putrid voice, laced with smugness; arrogance. "For a second there I really thought you were going to go through with it, but I guess you've gone soft."

That smile. That shit-eating smile. I wanted to break it, break his pretty little face, watch the terror and agony develop on his face when he realizes that I'm killing him and he can't do anything about it.

I finally get a good grip on his hair, and he's confused; he certainly did think I had finished, that his torture had finished, but in reality, it had only begun. I pulled his head back, gaining momentum, before slamming his pretty little face into the wall. He screams, and I love it; I can hear his pain, his nose is bleeding, I think it's broken but I don't care, I watch his broken eyes staring at me, confused, wanting an answer to a question I don't understand.

His expression amuses me, so I do it again, I break his pretty face against the wall, again and again and again and he's screaming and wanting me to stop but I can't stop because it feels so good; I don't want to stop, this is the first time I've felt so alive in years. I now know that it wasn't just Shukaku that lusted for blood, it was me too, but I'm okay with it because it feels so good, his blood is getting into his silky hair and its covering my fingers and I like it and I continue to smash in his face, and I can hear his skull cracking and it's the most delightful sound I've ever heard, and he's sobbing and crying, and there's blood and tears and snot running down his broken face.

But my fun quickly runs out because he's not crying anymore, he's too weak to scream and plead and beg and struggle, and I think I've broken him, but I don't stop, my arm won't stop moving, the wall is covered in blood and the plaster is beginning to break and I don't know how long I've been doing this but my arm is growing tired and the wall is falling apart, and I know his face is already broken. I turn him around and his face isn't so pretty anymore, and I can no longer recognize the arrogant face he used to have; his once beautiful and pale face is now covered in a mask of blood and his nose has been so badly injured I can't tell it's there anymore, and his eyes are closed but they're bleeding, and his mouth is open because there is no longer skin there to keep it closed and his teeth look like bloody shattered glass and broken piano keys.

He isn't breathing anymore, so I assume that he's dead, though I don't know how far along in my treatment that he had actually passed. But I am disappointed that my toy has stopped moving, stopped struggling.

"I wasn't done yet."

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Okay, so I accidentally changed tenses a couple times (as in, it went from being in past tense, to being in present tense, and vice versa), but I had liked the format I did it in, so I didn't bother to change it. Hope you liked it, review! Wow, it's been a while since I was able to write and complete two fics in two days xD My muse usually burns out by the time I'm finished the first...